


Do I Stay? Do I Dare?

by elissanerdwriter



Series: tumblr ship weeks [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4499658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elissanerdwriter/pseuds/elissanerdwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuilly fought down another wave of panic, squeezing his eyes shut. It went quiet in the other room, and he knew Enjolras would be back soon, but he couldn’t find the strength to let go of the sheets. He wanted someone to help him, to tell him what to do, and though he wouldn’t have chosen Enjolras out of his friends, he had no idea what else to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I Stay? Do I Dare?

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by an Enjolras/Feuilly day on tumblr. All relationships are platonic, because I can't do romantic shipping apparently. I am still figuring out tags and things.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

Feuilly took a deep breath and sat up, swiping at his eyes. He never had any tissues in his room, so his sheets were bunched up beside him. He was embarrassed by how damp the edges were, but there was nothing he could do in the moment except shove them behind him.  
The door creaked open slightly, a thin blade of light from the hall lamp cutting into the dark room. Someone’s shadow blocked it near the top, and even though he couldn’t see the backlit face, Feuilly knew who it was. Courfeyrac, his other roommate, was much shorter. He swore silently and tried to straighten up more.  
“Oh, Enjolras!” He forced a smile in case his face was visible, trying to hold his voice steady. “I didn’t think you’d be here. I thought your class didn’t get out until late.”  
His friend moved into the darkness, shutting the door behind him. “It was cut short because of the rain. I figured I should check on you before I went to ’Ferre’s.” His footsteps went across the room. “Do you want to lighten it up in here? I can open the windows.”  
“Oh- um-” Feuilly felt a jolt of panic. If he said yes, it would be easier to see he’d been crying, but if he said no, it would be obvious something was wrong-  
Enjolras had his hand on the thick curtains Feuilly had drawn over the window, making some of the grey midmorning glow edge through. His pale face hovered in the semi-darkness, turned towards Feuilly, but after a second of silence he said gently, “It’s fine to keep them shut. It’s not much lighter out there anyway. I’m going to go to the kitchen and find you some food, okay?”  
Feuilly nodded, glad not to have to make the decision. He didn’t feel like he could handle even such a small one right now. But if he couldn’t decide whether or not to open the window, how the hell was he supposed to decide if he should move away from all his friends and-  
He grabbed the sheets and pressed them to his face to muffle a sob, pulling his knees to his chest. He was all too aware of Enjolras banging around in the kitchen, as he seemed to be making a lot of noise for what Feuilly knew they had available. Though it was probably more than usual, since he hadn’t been able to eat yet that day due to his preoccupation with the call he had received the night before. If preoccupation was the right word. Seriously, he thought, who calls after nine p.m. asking someone if they want to abandon their current life for a massive promotion doing sales in London, with almost a 50% increase on his current salary? He would have thought it was a joke, but he recognized his boss’s number, and he had called in to check its truth early that morning despite having a day off. They were legitimately asking if he wanted to move to London. A year ago he would have immediately said yes, knowing it was more money than he had ever been offered in his life, but after everything that had happened since meeting Grantaire in that museum, after five months of living with his friends full-time…  
He fought down another wave of panic, squeezing his eyes shut. It went quiet in the other room, and he knew Enjolras would be back soon, but he couldn’t find the strength to let go of the sheets. He wanted someone to help him, to tell him what to do, and though he wouldn’t have chosen Enjolras out of his friends, he had no idea what else to do.  
The door opened again. Enjolras came through, holding two sandwiches in either hand. The top one was ham and cheese. Feuilly fought back a wave of frustration. Why did they even have ham in the fridge? He hated it! And now he had to eat it and pretend like he liked it because Enjolras had been trying to help and made it for him-  
Enjolras sat beside him on the edge of the bed, leaving the door open a crack, and spread the sandwiches out in his lap. “I have ham and cheese, turkey, and two tomato with lettuce. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I made a few options. If it’s okay with you, I’ll eat the ham one. I think you said you didn’t like it…” He looked over questioningly.  
Feuilly didn’t try to smile, instead staring at him in awe. His hands, still wrapped in the sheet, fell to rest on his knees. His friend said quickly, “If that’s not true, you can definitely have it. I wasn’t sure because we had it in the fridge.”  
“No, no, you- you were right. I- I don’t know why it’s in there, I just- Can I have the tomato ones?” He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he saw the sandwiches.  
Enjolras nodded and handed him two, starting on the ham one himself. Feuilly raised it to his mouth, but he couldn’t bite into it. He took a shaky breath. Enjolras said softly, “What happened?”  
Feuilly felt the tears slip out of his eyes again, making them burn. He shook his head, staring at the bread. “I don’t know. I- can I eat first?”  
“Of course. Talk whenever you want.”  
Feuilly ate without tasting the food. He swiped at his eyes every few seconds, every time glancing at Enjolras, but the other man never looked back at him with pity or judgement, and never seemed like he wanted to be somewhere else. Gradually, Feuilly relaxed.  
“My boss called me last night.” Enjolras nodded, his expression not changing. “She said the person our parent company had running the sales department in London just retired. They have a replacement, but they want someone with some experience take over their old job and be trained as their replacement. It’s just managing a few stores, including the one I’m at right now- but they want me to do it! After barely two years of sales work, they want me running whole stores. And… the company’s not based in Paris.”  
He stared at Enjolras pleadingly, silently begging him to understand why this was a problem. Enjolras nodded slowly. “It’s in London, isn’t it.”  
Feuilly sobbed, “Yes!” He realized how pathetic he had sounded, but he had to keep going. “50% increase on my salary, opportunities for future promotions and training so I can work for other companies if I want, I might even be able to go to University- but I’m just getting settled here, I finally found people I trust not to hurt me, to support me, and a cause I believe in. My fight is here now, and I don’t think I can take leaving it for a whole different country. This one is a mess, but I can’t just leave it! It’s my home! You’re my home.”  
He leaned over, pressing his face into his hands. His shoulders shook, and he so desperately wanted this to all resolve itself. For his boss to call again and say it was a mistake, for his friends to decide to move with him, for his mind to just stop caring. But a year of experience told him he couldn’t just give up. He had to find a way himself, somehow. And he knew he probably would. It just didn’t feel like it right then.  
A hand gently touched his back, rubbing at the knots from bending over his computer all day. He stiffened, and the movement stopped, but when he gave a shaky sigh, it started again. Enjolras massaged his back gently, one-handed, and Feuilly could see the other, still holding his sandwich. He was wearing a thick sweater, and his jeans were still speckled lightly with rain, his shoes muddy. He kicked them off and tucked his legs up onto the bed, moving closer to Feuilly. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leaning his head against him.  
Feuilly stilled, shocked. Enjolras hated unnecessary physical contact. He had once hit Courf in the face for giving him a surprise hug. But now he held Feuilly gently, no awkwardness in his frame. Feuilly felt himself relax again, letting the tears come. This was why he would miss his friends. There was no telling him everything would be okay, or that his fears were unwarranted. No trying to get out of there as fast as possible, moving on and not thinking of him. Just letting him take his time, being there so he didn’t have to sit alone with his fears. He lifted his head, tilting it to the ceiling and closing his eyes.  
Enjolras whispered, “Feuilly, whatever choice you make, I will support you. If you decide to go, I will come and visit you. I will Skype you in to meetings. I will help you with applications and if you call me in the middle of the night lonely, I will listen. I know it is a fantastic opportunity, and I am so proud of you. But if you decide to stay, I will help you try to get the same kinds of opportunities you could get in London. We will all still try to help you pay for college, or just give you all our notes and books so you can study with us. We will find a way.”  
Feuilly nodded. He knew this, but it was still nice to be told.  
“Did your boss say anything about what you could do if you didn’t take the job?”  
Feuilly paused. Had she? He had started feeling anxious when she mentioned moving, so he hadn’t been paying full attention for the end of the call. “I’m not sure. I guess I just figured I would keep doing what I’m doing now.” It payed decently, but dealing with angry customers was hardly a stress-free job. It fairly often made him break down late at night so Courf had to help him calm down.  
Enjolras lifted his head, looking Feuilly straight in the eye. “Do you want me to call and make sure?” Feuilly shook his head frantically, and Enjolras leaned away a little so they didn’t bump heads. “Okay. I’m going to ask straight-up: which option would make you happier?”  
“Staying here,” he responded immediately. He paused to think. “Well, at least at first. I would miss the Amis so much if I moved, and I think I would be very lost without knowing that I would be fighting with you all in June.”  
Enjolras nodded again. “We would miss you. You are a valuable member of our group, Feuilly, and we also enjoy your presence very much. But if you wish, we can find a way to bring you home for the revolution.”  
Feuilly started shaking again. “But I’ll probably have next to no time! I can already barely take the hours I have, I’m not sure I could handle a move and training and the job all together-”  
Enjolras let go of him and took his arm, turning him so they were face-to-face. “Feuilly, if they are overworking you at any point, call me and I will help you find a new job or get your old one back. Okay?”  
He shrugged, wrapped his arms around himself; it was all he could promise right then.  
Enjolras faced the wall opposite again, examining the Van Gogh poster that was a gift from Jehan and R. His hand rested comfortingly on Feuilly’s. “I know it might not be easy to ask for help, but you don’t have to be afraid of me, okay? I’m pretty sure I’m more sensitive than I seem. I won’t embarrass you.”  
He was silent for a moment. ‘Also, I’ve had to ask for help- from situations I thought I could handle- a lot. I used to overwork myself to the point of passing out, and I would have panic attacks if I thought I did badly in class. It took me a long time to get to the point where I could flaunt the authority.” He smiled crookedly.  
Feuilly laughed painfully. “I don’t want to flaunt authority, though, at least if it’s not the government’s. I’ve spent too long trying to get to this point, I’ve always dreamed of being able to make enough money to fully support myself. I’ve gotten close, but I’m still leaning on you and Courf. And if I screw up this situation, I’m going to suffer for it the rest of my life.”  
“I won’t let that happen. We’ll start a company, or you’ll open a bookstore with Ferre, or-”  
Feuilly sat straight up, his hand sliding away. “Wait. Didn’t you say you’re going to see Ferre?”  
“Yeah, but it’s not a problem, he understands if you need-”  
Feuilly shook his head. “No-- no, you should go. Thank you for the sandwiches. I- I can figure this out. I just need to be alone for a bit.”  
Enjolras looked confused, but he nodded and scooted off the bed, bending to pick up his shoes. He stopped at the door. “Feuilly?”  
Feuilly was struggling to keep from crying again. “Y-yes?”  
“I’ll be back at about ten, but if you need me, don’t be afraid to call, okay?”  
He nodded. The door shut, then, a minute or so later, the front one. Feuilly let out a sob.  
He didn’t want to send Enjolras away, but his chest hurt from remembering all the things he would miss about his friends. Ferre buying ridiculously expensive antique books ‘for his shop.’ Courf making cookies when he felt bad. R designing t-shirts with stupid puns on them for Enjolras. Joly and Bossuet pairing up to prank everyone in the Musain every few weeks, Bahorel trying to get R and Enjolras mad enough at each other to fight without incriminating himself. Jehan making homemade cards for every birthday and not expecting Feuilly to buy a present for them in return. What had he done to deserve friends like these? Who would give up their time for him, make him sandwiches, buy him lunch without waiting for him to reciprocate, try to talk him through his worries, all without once talking down to him. And now he was considering leaving them. But he had to, didn’t he?  
Didn’t he?  
Enjolras had said they would support him no matter what. He knew this was true. The question was if he could support them from afar, be there when they needed the people, or even just him. He grabbed his laptop and did a quick search for the price of plane tickets between Charles de Gaulle and Heathrow. With the paycheck for this new job, a few months of work would get him enough for a round-trip ride. And he would still have enough for a decent apartment, food, and a few luxuries… and eventually...  
The Van Gogh poster on his wall lit up in the rain-filtered light. He touched it gently, straightening it, and found the spot where Jehan had written Feuilly- Vivent les peuples. One of Courf’s textbooks was on the floor beneath it. Feuilly made his decision.


End file.
